


A Recipe for Disaster

by JustWriteIt



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:59:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustWriteIt/pseuds/JustWriteIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a batch of unruly dwarves descend upon him, Bilbo is appalled at their behavior. When they refuse to listen to his advice, a rather unusual situation arises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Recipe for Disaster

Admiring his nicely weeded garden rows, Bilbo straightened up and stretched his aching muscles. This had been a perfect day. The temperature was just right, the birds had been busy singing and all was right with his world.

Something zipped just along the edge of his vision. Well, almost everything was right. Drat those garden sprites! The infestation seemed to get worse every day. All day long they had buzzed around his plot, sticking out their tongues and blowing raspberries at him. A few times they had come close enough for him to take a swing with his hoe, but inevitably he missed. They merely laughed, stuck their fingers in their ears and waggled them at him.

Usually, garden sprites did not bother him much, but the numbers had increased to the point where something needed to be done. When there were only a few, they were all but invisible. However, when there were this many, they would join together and start causing real damage. A gang of sprites was strong enough to pull down a vine or dig out a plant. Bilbo sighed. As much as he hated the thought, it was time for a batch of Sprite Scourge.

Back in his kitchen, Bilbo gathered the necessary ingredients. As he stirred everything together, his nose twitched at the pleasant scent that filled the room. He resisted the urge to stick a finger in the bowl and sample it. The Scourge might smell and taste delicious, but the consequences were most unpleasant.

It wasn’t fatal. No hobbit would ever kill if there was another way. No, to put it mildly, the Scourge just made a sprite terribly uncomfortable. First there was the gas a few hours after ingestion and then the diarrhea. The diarrhea was actually good for the environment as it returned fertilizer to the earth. The sprites always remembered where they had last eaten and would normally avoid the area for weeks, sometimes months.

Bilbo finished his preparation, covered it and put it in his well-filled pantry. He would set it out tomorrow. As he cleaned up his work area, there was a knock on the door. With a groan, Bilbo remembered the old man he had met yesterday and the promise of tea. Quickly he set a kettle on the fire, grabbed two mugs and set a few seed cakes on the table.

‘Why did I invite him back?’ he muttered to himself as he went to the door. Part of him doubted the man was even the wizard Gandalf as he claimed. Probably just a homeless bum looking for a handout. Oh well, he had plenty to share. It wouldn’t hurt to entertain for an hour or so.

But it wasn’t the old man, but a dwarf on his doorstep. ‘Dwalin, at your service,’ the stranger said and pushed his way inside. Bilbo was too polite and stunned to say anything to the dwarf or any of the others that showed up over the next hour. Each one made himself at home as if expected and helped himself to something from Bilbo’s pantry. The old man arrived with the last group and joined in the festivities.

The hobbit watched in horror as they cleared shelf after shelf of cakes, ale, bread, cheese and anything else edible. It was only when he saw the dwarf, Dwalin, sniffing the Sprite Scourge that he found his voice at last. ‘Oh, no, don’t touch that!’ he cried. 

The dwarf smirked at Bilbo. The little hobbit had been fluttering and flitting around the dwarves the whole time, making comments about dishes and messes. It had become quite annoying. ‘Smells good to me,’ he said and ate a huge spoonful.

Disgusted by the dwarves’ behavior and how he had been ignored, Bilbo said quietly, ‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’

‘I’m _not_ you, thank goodness,’ Dwalin snarled. Picking up a stack of bowls, he headed back to the raucous dinner table. ‘I found us one last thing for dessert, lads!’ He put generous helpings in each bowl and passed them around to the others who dug in eagerly.

Sighing, Bilbo retreated to his room. Even when asked, he refused to come out. Adventure? He would have nothing to do with that lot out there and after tomorrow, they would probably not want to have anything to do with him!

* * *

The next morning, Bilbo woke late. He had been kept up by the roaring of the dwarves well past his bedtime. Slowly he crept out of his room and peered around corners, expecting to find his hole a disaster. Surprisingly, everything was neat and tidy. There were no dwarves or wizards in attendance. He noticed a note sitting atop a pile of parchment. The note said, ‘In case you change your mind, meet us at the Green Dragon.’ A quick glance showed the pile to be a contract of some sort absolving the dwarves of “liability in case of death and….”

He needed to read no further. Bilbo placed the pile into the kindling bucket by the fireplace and went to the kitchen where he surveyed his empty larder. Fortunately it was market day and he would be able to replenish his supplies. Sadly he realized he might have to avoid the Green Dragon for a few days.  If all those gassy dwarves had gone there, it would make the place uninhabitable for quite some time.

* * *

“ _Come with me to Erebor,_ ’ he said. ‘ _We can get a burglar in the Shire_ ,’ he said. ‘ _No trouble whatsoever_ ,’ he said,” Thorin groaned as he crouched behind some shrubbery. ‘I’ll give you Erebor, the Shire and something else, Gandalf! When I am finished here, IF I am ever finished here, I am heading straight back to the Blue Mountains. I should have listened to Dis. She told me nothing good ever comes from getting involved in the affairs of wizards, and she was right!’

Located in his own bush nearby, Gandalf answered, ‘Don’t be hasty, Thorin. We can find another burglar. Perhaps in Bree. I wouldn’t suggest trying the Green Dragon. We definitely wore out our welcome last night. However, I really do think you should continue on to Erebor, burglar or no. The _Future May Depend Upon What We Find There_!’ he said ominously and then groaned and got back to business.

Up and down the road, dwarves hooted and booed Gandalf’s statement. ‘The Future can go out and take care of itself,’ Balin complained. ‘I agree with Thorin. It’s the Blue Mountains for me, too.’

Shouts of agreement rolled over the wizard’s ears and he admitted defeat. ‘Oh very well, if you are all set on giving up the gold of Erebor, who am I to stand in your way? At least it hasn’t been a total loss.’

Emptying what he hoped was the last of his bowel’s contents, Thorin said, ‘And just how do you figure that?’

Considering how he and the dwarves had spent the last few hours, Gandalf said, ‘If I may say, this part of the Shire has been very well fertilized.’

Thorin nodded sadly. ‘ _That_ you can most definitely say. Do you by any chance have a few more leaves?’


End file.
